Fever Dream
by freedomatthesea
Summary: Neverland makes you face your deepest desires. It's a land where imagination runs wild. A land where dreams... well, they might just come true.


"Neverland is place where you have to confront your past because you have no future – a place where you're faced with your strongest desires and your greatest fears. Think you can handle that, love?"

Emma narrowed her eyes, her head tilting to the side as she flashed the pirate Captain a sarcastic smile. "Of _course_ I can handle it Hook. I know how you are; you make everything seem like so much more than it actually is. I'm sure we'll all be fine."

Killian chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped forward, invading her personal space. "So when you wake up in the middle of the night _screaming _my name, I shouldn't think anything of it? You've got it handled?"

She wasn't certain what he meant. The look in his eyes said one thing, the same thing that every nerve ending in her body was screaming, but her head told her to _think_ that he meant screaming for help – not screaming his name in pleasure. "In your dreams." She scoffed, her voice coming out a lot breathier than she'd intended it to.

"No, in _yours_." He leaned close, so close that his breath brushed over her lips and a single step forward would bring them pressed against hers. Killian's gaze dropped to her lips and for a split second she was fairly certain he was going to kiss her. And surprisingly she wasn't exactly pulling away from him. But he did.

"I-.. you.." Emma flustered, her heart pounding in her chest, making her vision go a little blurry. "I'm going to bed."

"That you should lass, you need your _rest_."

* * *

It was hot aboard the ship. The weather in Neverland was a stark dichotomy to that of Maine. It was hot, humid, and she wasn't quite certain how Killian was still walking around in that heavy leather coat of his. He needed to shed it – the leather coat and _every_ other piece of clothes that he had on.

She shouldn't be thinking like that. She shouldn't be thinking about the sweat dripping down her brow or the way the heat was making the sheets stick to her bare skin. How she'd much rather have it be _his_ skin sticking to hers as their bodies moved together; fingers tangling in hair, hands clutching for purchase, grinding their hips against their aching flesh.

She needed to _stop_.

Emma rolled over, pressing her face against the pillow, trying to push away the thoughts the made her head spin. Everything smelt like him. Every inhale brought the scent of rum, spice, and salty wind to the forefront of her mind.

What would it feel like to have that _cool_ metal hook slide over her back? To soothe her burning skin, the point of the hook leaving a soft red line in its wake as he drew it down her skin.

Emma groaned and she wasn't certain if it was a groan of need or frustration or both.

She couldn't get him out of her mind. He was right and she hated it. The heat, the delirium of it all, and the exhaustion of worrying only magnified the underlying sexual tension that had been there, between them, since the day she spotted him lying under a pile of dead bodies.

Dead bodies! That was something to think about. That would keep her mind off of sex. Sex with the man they'd found under the dead bodies. The man with the eyes that screamed _fuck me_. Who's lips seemed meant to kiss her, to cover every inch of her sweaty, trembling skin with heated open mouthed kisses that made her burn even hotter.

She needed to stop.

She was letting what he had said get to her. Which – she figured – was exactly what he wanted. They would both be fools if they pretended there wasn't something between them. He was just playing upon it. He was just trying to torture her.

His lips could easily torture her. She could vividly imagine having his head between her thighs, his mouth working against her, his tongue – _god_ the things that she figured he could do with that mouth of his. The way he'd popped the top off of the rum had clued her into that ability pretty early on.

Emma rolled back over, facing the ceiling, taking it upon herself to count the boards above her head. But it didn't keep her away from imagining the weight of Killian pressing her back against the mattress. Her legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him _deeper_, her nails digging into his back, leaving crescent shaped moons in their wake.

"I _hate_ you." She groaned, covering her face with her arm. She was well aware that Killian – _Hook_ – wasn't there to hear her frustration, but she had a feeling he was sitting in his cabin with a smug ass grin on his face, well aware of what he'd done to her.

Her skin burned for _him_. She ached in ways she'd never ached before. She didn't yearn like this. She had kept herself away from the _need_ to be with someone. She just had sex, she got it over with, quelled the need for sex – not the need for _someone_.

But Emma Swan did _not_ lay in bed, subtly rubbing her legs together to get some sort of friction. She didn't lay and think about all the ways that someone – _Hook_ – could fuck her. She didn't do that. She didn't.

"Fuck this." Emma gritted out, kicking the covers off. She fumbled for her shirt, neglecting a bra that would only impede what she wanted. She jerked her jeans on, forgoing underwear as well. She only had one pair and if they got ripped, she was fucked.

_Fucked_. She wanted to be. She wanted it hard and fast, until her legs gave out and her voice was hoarse from screaming his name.

_His_ name.

She marched herself onto the deck and straight into the Captain's quarters. She wasn't playing around anymore. She wasn't going to lay in bed and get herself off. No, the cause of all of this was going to do that for her.

"You have no fucking idea how much I hate you right now." Emma said, wanting to slap that damned smirk off his face as his eyes swept over her. She was well aware that her damp skin had her shirt sticking to her skin, making the fact that her nipples had hardened, quite noticeable.

"I don't actually." He said, flicking his tongue across his bottom lip. "From the looks of things it looks like you're not reacting like you _hate_ me." Killian stepped forward, batting those gorgeous blue eyes of him, his voice low, gravely. Sex more or less oozing from his voice.

Emma pressed her palms against his chest, curling her fingers in the material and jerking him forward. "Shut up." She snapped, leaning up to catch his lips, kissing him hard. Hard enough to bruise. If she had anything to say about this, there wasn't going to be _anything_ gentle about this.

Killian's arm curled around her possessively, pulling her flush against him – letting her feel that she wasn't the only one whose body reacted in quite the opposite way of disgust or hatred. He was pressed against her, straining against the ties of his leather pants. And she couldn't resist sliding one hand down between them and palming his length through his pants.

He groaned against her mouth and it only fueled her to kiss him more, her other hand tangling in his hair, jerking the strands as they slid between her fingers. He fisted the material at the small of her back, tugging it up – _needing_ to feel her.

Emma stepped forward, leading him backwards towards the nearest wall. Her hand didn't leave him, didn't stop palming him, working him, taunting him. His teeth dug into her bottom lip and she was certain it would be bruised and swollen before this ended.

She broke the kiss, only long enough for him to get her shirt off, taking in the look on his face as her breasts were bared to him. It had been a long time since she _saw_ the reaction. She had always been a lights off kind of girl.

Killian bucked his hips forward, grinding into her hand, before he used the hook to catch her wrist and pull it away. In that fraction of a second where the action left her confused, he switched their position, pushing her back against the wall roughly. He jerked at the fastenings of her pants, wanting them gone. Wanting her naked and pressed against the wall of his cabin.

He'd keep her there forever if he had his way with things. She was certain of it. The possessive look in his eyes told her that.

"_Hook_." Emma moaned, her eyes falling closed as he teasingly brushed his fingers over the crotch of her jeans, purposely tormenting her. Just like she wanted. Just like she _needed_. "You're too dressed." She said, tugging at his shirt, working it up and over his head, not giving him much of a chance to protest.

Her hands went to the laces of his pants, working them open, tugging the laces loose, and jerking them down his hips. Not wanting to waste any more time with this. She toed her own jeans off, kicking them aside.

Killian's hand returned to the apex of her thighs, fingers sliding over her slick folds. A wicked smirk was plastered to his lips as he felt just how badly she wanted this. "You should have come here for this before now." He rasped out, slowly sliding two digits into her, curving them and seeking out that sweet spot within her. He found it. Like a true pirate, find his treasure.

She gasped, her head hitting back against the wall. She clamped her lips shut, resisting the urge to cry out his name. She wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

"_Fuck_." Killian stepped closer, his fingers working in and out of her, his thumb brushing over her clit, rubbing at it slowly, wanting to feel her come undone.

He was good. Far too good. Skilled in ways that no one had ever been with her before. She never gave them a chance to do this. She didn't want the intimacy of it all. But right now it was _all_ that she needed.

Her fingers curled around his wrist, urging him on, her hips rocking into his hand. It was unfair how quickly he had her right on the edge, crying out as her release hit. Her muscles tightened around his fingers, her lips parting, moaning as the pleasure rushed through her.

"That's a good lass." Killian leaned in, flicking his tongue against her pulse point. He slid his fingers away, bringing his hand to grasp her hip. "Up." He growled out, pulling her upwards.

Dimly aware of what he was doing, her thoughts still addled by the release that still trembled through her, she slid her arms around his shoulders, legs going around his waist. _Finally_. He was there.

"_Hook_!" She cried out, her head falling forward against his shoulder when he thrust forward. He gave her no chance to get accustomed to his size, his hips surging forward at a desperate, needy, pace. It was just like she imagined it. The ache that he made and cured all at the same instant.

Emma rocked against him, her nails digging into his shoulders, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Every thrust of his hips pushed her closer to another release, the heat curling low in her stomach. "_Fuck_." She gritted out.

"I am." He rasped out, his breath hot against her ear. His hand gripped her hip tighter, shifting his angle and driving home against the spot within her that had her seeing stars. Killian groaned loudly, her muscles tightening around him pushing him over the edge. He slammed his hips forward, again and again, riding them both through their releases.

Emma cried out, but it wasn't because of the pleasure or Killian or any of it – she cried out because she fell out and landed fast first on the floor beside her bed. The action jerked her rudely out of her sleep. She pushed herself off the floor, breathing heavily, her thoughts addled – as if her dream had been _real_.

She swore she could feel his hand on her hip, the hair that covered his chest brushing over her skin, his hips pressed against hers. But it had been nothing but a dream. An amazing dream at that. An incredibly vivid one that left her second guessing herself.

"Emma?"

Her eyes widened and she stared at her cabin door. "Just a second." She said hurriedly, pushing herself up off the floor. Her skin was slick with sweat, hair sticking to her cheeks. She _felt _like she'd just had the best sex of her life, but she was well aware that _that_ was just a dream, because he was standing on the other side of her door right now. Not pressing her against a wall.

"Hook… What do you want?" She said, her tone distant, not wanting to give away the fact that she was trembling as she stood there before him.

"Well, if you're having to ask I clearly don't make good on showing it." He retorted, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he gave her a look that made her legs go a little wobbly. "In all seriousness I came to inform you that we've almost reached the shore."

"Thanks." Emma swallowed thickly, ducking her head. "I'll be up in a minute."

"Working out again were you?" He questioned, his eyes alight with amusement. "I typically cry out your name while I 'exercise' too."

"Shut up and go away." Her cheeks were burning now.

"As you wish, love." Killian knocked his hook against the frame of the door, before turning on his heels and walking away.

She looked after him a little too long. All too aware of the ache that wasn't truly quelled yet.


End file.
